


Sparks Fly

by vaakoh



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaakoh/pseuds/vaakoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy has been stuck in a rut ever since his divorce. In a desperate attempt to move on with his life, he moves into the city and becomes all too familiar with his second home, Timbers Pub, until his solitude is ripped apart by a haunting blue. (AU!Song Fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparks Fly

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt from anonymous on tumblr to write a fic based around a Taylor Swift song, so I went through and settled with Sparks Fly. Thus, this happened. Completely AU. Kudos and or comments would be greatly appreciated if enjoyed!

You’d be surprised about the kind of people you meet when you frequent the same bars in the city. It’s like a showcase of personalities and while there’s the occasional new addition, there’s also the occasional quiet exit. 

Quite frankly, none of them mattered to McCoy. Despite the varying personalities, they all seemed to grate on his nerves in their own special way, which made it difficult to hold friendships around this place.

However, they still held entertainment—pawns for his own imagination, to create false stories in this town to keep it seeming lively within that thriving mind of his. 

Timbers Pub held a special place in his heart, always being his favorite to stop into during his quiet evenings. He had his same seat at the edge of the bar, distant from the rest of the drinkers so he could quietly sip and observe. He liked it that way and while some had a boastful reputation, he did not.

He did have a reputation of sorts, just… not a  _good_  one, per se. Being distant and reserved in a social environment didn’t exactly give off a friendly impression—thankfully—because he wasn’t.

Tonight seemed like nothing out of the ordinary, just the typical evening in his corner with the occasional shot of whiskey between his beers. Granted, it was a little lonelier than usual, but he’d never admit that. 

Nothing out of the ordinary, aside from a new face that had showed up the week before. McCoy didn’t pay him much attention, already irritated by the first impression he had left, which was a bar fight with another regular that was well known for his drunken temper. If McCoy was kind enough, he would have warned the new comer, but he wasn’t. Goldilocks could fend for himself.

Speaking of the devil, McCoy lifted his gaze from his drink to realize Goldilocks himself was leaning against the bar next to him.

McCoy wasn’t having any of his shit. He immediately rolled his eyes and turned his body the other way, now staring at the wall which suddenly seemed more interesting than paying any attention to the new comer. Tonight was not the night he was suddenly going to start conversing. 

“Oh c’mon, you can’t be as bad as everyone says,” Goldilocks whined out, but McCoy just ignored him. “Word of mouth is you’re always alone h—”

“And I’d like it to stay that way,” McCoy interrupted without breaking his stare from the wall.

“You can’t just sit here alone all the time,” The new comer took a seat and waved down bartender.

“I wasn’t aware they decided to out-law solitude in bars. In that case, I’ll leave.” McCoy sat down a twenty and placed the beer bottle over it for the bartender, then budged from the stool and hurried towards the door.

That god damned stubborn kid had the nerve to tag along after McCoy, shouting out words to try and get his attention—which he wasn’t going to give to him. Instead, McCoy quickened his pace to try and lose him through the crowd of people between the bar and the subway. 

McCoy glanced over his shoulder, searching the crowd for the equivalent of what he presumed to be a human fly. He had lost him and hopefully for good.

That insistency of communication on Goldilock’s behalf had put off McCoy from returning to that bar for three whole weeks. He knew better than to go back so soon, seeing as how that boy would probably linger around—which made McCoy uncomfortable. What made him so desperate to approach him?

Whatever, it was all said and done and it wasn’t his problem anymore—or at least, that’s what he thought, until he finally found his way back to Timbers Pub.

The night was quiet, just as usual, aside from the quiet rainy tip tap against the windows.

“Finally decided to show your face again?” McCoy nearly jumped from his seat, startled by the sudden body sitting next to him. “I thought I ran you out of town.”

McCoy let out a huff that hinted at a chuckle. It was unbelievable and almost hysterical how persistent this kid was.

“Why do you care?” McCoy took a shot of whisky.

“Jim Kirk,” he replied with a smile that made McCoy want to shove him right off that god damn stool and onto the ground.

“Thanks for sharing your name that I clearly didn’t ask for,” McCoy took another shot.

“Slow down,” Jim grabbed the empty shot glass and sat it down off to the side. “You’re always alone and I was curious why everyone always kept it that way.”

“I know it’s hard for someone like  _you_  to comprehend, but I actually enjoy spending my time alone.”

“Someone like me? You sure have a lot of insight on my character for someone who literally ran away from me a few weeks ago,” Jim cocked his head to the side, still sporting that smug ass grin.

“Yet you still can’t get the hint, which tells me you’re a reckless asshole who does whatever the hell he wants while disregarding the consequences,” McCoy sat his money on the bar yet again, going through the same steps as last time.

“I call it strong willed,” Jim called as he followed McCoy out of the bar and down the sidewalk. “Alright, fine. If I’m the reckless asshole, then what does that make you, huh? The bitter, lonely prick who’s too good to give the passer-by the time of day?”

Seeping with agitation, McCoy came to a stop and turned around to face Jim. Both looked a mess, tipsy in the rain without an umbrella—not that it matter. Both were considerably wet by now.

“I choose to be alone and if I come off bitter, then so be it. I didn’t come here to make friends. I got a divorce, lost my house, lost my job, and lost all of my friends. I moved out here to continue my life, not start a new one,” McCoy took a deep breath as he slowly lost his words.

How the hell he could even notice in this dark weather, he had no idea, but those bright blue eyes were staring straight through him. It was terrifying, _paralyzing_ , as he forced himself to swallow down wherever he was going with that last thought.

Convincing others that being alone doesn’t necessarily mean he is lonely was easy, but convincing himself was the problem and the more Jim stared through him with curiosity, the harder it became.

It had been four long years since the divorce and this boy was dangerous.

“You’re a little lost,” Jim had the nerve to take a step closer, leaving McCoy feeling uneasy. “Drinking your time away in a bar,  _to me_ , sounds like you’re just throwing your life away instead of continuing it.”

When McCoy neglected to respond, Jim reached out to try and grip onto the older man’s shirt, but before he could feel just how coarse his arms were, McCoy took a step back and turned to walk away.

Even if Jim didn’t follow him down the sidewalk this time, McCoy could feel those eyes piercing through his back as he walked away and boy, oh boy, he wouldn’t forget them.

For the next two days, McCoy paced around his apartment, anxious, impatient, and most of all, angry—angry that all he could think about were those baby blue eyes.

Maybe this is what he needed, someone like Jim, someone who… who drove him insane in each and every way, kept him on his feet, and reminded him that maybe it was okay to open up again. Maybe.

He was startled out of his thoughts as the door bell rang, which was odd. Out of the years he had spent here, this was the first time he had ever heard the door bell, thankfully, because it was an annoying buzz.

“Who’s there?” McCoy paged down, waiting for a response that never came. “Hello?”

Frustrated and still antsy, McCoy made the unusual decision of going down to see who it was. 

As soon as he opened the door, he spotted Jim leaning against the wall, soaking wet from head to toe. This rain spell was certainly unfortunate, but McCoy felt no sympathy for the boy who lacked a decent umbrella. 

“How the hell did you find me?” McCoy kept his hand on the door knob, ready to turn and run back inside at the first sign of emotional danger.

“One of the bartenders… Scotty, I think was his name? Said you lived here, so I’ve been ringing all the rooms,” Jim paused, arms crossed over his chest. “I wasn’t sure you’d even answer, but—here you are.”

McCoy didn’t nod, didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but he did glance away. He couldn’t stand feeling like he was drowning in blue.

“Here I am…” he finally muttered. “Why are you here?”

“I told you before, you’re can’t just sit around alone all the time…” Jim’s smile was relaxed, different than before, lacking the cocky attitude in the curl of his lips. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” McCoy mocked in return.

Maybe this is what he needed. Maybe this is who he needed.

The possibilities clouded not only his mind, but his attention as well, distracting him from his surroundings. Reality was on hold for a moment, which that moment would have been extended to minutes if it weren’t for the fact that Jim had taken a step closer to McCoy.

Actually, McCoy wouldn’t have even noticed that much either, but the soft, warm lips that were suddenly pressing against his own brought his attention back to the present. 

Something told him to push Jim away, to run, to seclude himself back in his apartment where he was safe from the terrors of the human race. Yet something else kept him there, letting it happen.

His lonely heart needed it.


End file.
